


can't outrun your blood

by lionlannister



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi, Street Gang au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionlannister/pseuds/lionlannister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton has been running since the moment his brother died, before that even, but now he has a real family. Friends that steal to survive and spend all their days together. But he was never allowed to stay safe for long and violence runs in his blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't outrun your blood

**Author's Note:**

> the rating is really just for cursing and violence, there's no sex.

His back hit the wall with a thud and the air rushed from his lungs. “That all you got? I thought you were some big thug,” There was a smirk on his face that no punch could wipe off, and the man that held him in place kept trying to make it disappear under a mask of blood. “Come on, I’m just some circus freak, right? A big ol’ boy like you should be able to take me.” His laugh was painted red and blood from the younger man’s mouth flew into his attackers face. 

“My boss thinks you’re worth the sweat but I see through you. You’re just a scaredass punk kid,” The thug replied with a cruel smile and a vicious knee to Clint’s stomach. He doubled over in pain and finally sunk to the ground, smirk still firmly in place but a darkness in his eyes as he glared at his assailant. “You’re scared of somethin’ and I think it just might be yourself.” This sentence was followed by a kick to the side, probably breaking a few ribs and causing Clint to cry out. “You can’t outrun your own blood, boy. If you steal from one of our shops again I’ll kill you.” With a smile the man pulled Clint up by his hair, forcing him to stand up, back still against the brick wall of a building. Gone was the smirk that he had worn so proudly through his beating, replaced by a grimace and a blood soaked face. His grip loosened for a second and he lightly pat the boy’s cheek, seeming to feel sorry for the young thief, before punching him across the cheek and leaving him unconscious on the ground. 

_“You can’t outrun your own blood, boy.”_  

Blue eyes opened with a start, starring into the still dark sky above and groaning in pain. He was still on the ground, hadn’t moved since he was beaten and left in the open air. No one goes looking for a thief on the streets, no one cares if you don’t crawl back into your hole at the end of the day. The blood on his face and in his hair was dry and sticking to his skin, it wasn’t the first time. It took all of his strength, and the help of the wall behind him, for him to be able to stand up. Another five minutes of breathing heavily and trying to take stock of his injuries before he could walk. 

At least two broken ribs.

A dislocated shoulder. 

Sprained ankle and more bruises and cuts than he could possibly count.

It wasn’t the worst beating he’d ever gotten, not by a long shot, but that didn’t mean Clint didn’t feel every bruise and lost drop of blood. 

_“You can’t outrun your own blood, boy.”_  

He could still feel that man’s breath on his face, still hear those words ringing in his ears. One of the cuts on his face opened again and he could taste the blood in his mouth. Some old woman gasped at the sight of his face, covering her mouth and walking quickly when he smiled at her and winked. No one met his eyes during his walk home. They would glance at the way he limped, at how he clutched his side, anything but meeting his eyes because that meant seeing him as more than a a dirty street urchin, meeting someone’s eyes meant you had to actually see them. 

Clint nearly passed out on the subway when someone elbowed him in the ribs, he felt a surge of rage and tried to turn and hit the man but he cried out instead. Anger sliding back into a dull throb in the back of his head, his fist uncurling and his eyes growing tired. Getting back to his apartment was almost more than he could manage, the loss of blood and pain nearly causing him to pass out in the street. 

When he opened the door he sighed, in relief or in frustration he would never know.  There a sheetless mattress in the corner of a mostly empty one room apartment. A minifridge filled with shitty beer and take out food sat in another corner and a small dresser that held his clothing and a few other essentials sat next to the bed. The only door in the room led to a dirty bathroom. Carefully lowering himself onto the bed, Clint grabbed at a photograph that was on the floor. It was crumpled and ripped but clearly showed two young boys standing in front of a big top circus tent, smiling the smiles of kids that thought they’d finally made it out of hell. Instead they’d only found an even worse pit to fall into. He pushed the picture away from him as though it burned him.

_“You can’t outrun your own blood, boy.”_  

But he could sure as hell try.

He didn’t remember falling asleep but he remembered waking up to someone flopping down on his bed and screaming his name. Grabbing the single pillow on the bed Clint rolled over and buried his head under it, trying to ignore the pain that covered his body. “Fuck do you want?” His speech was slow and slurred, his body too exhausted to bother speaking correctly, not that he had the best education or vocabulary anyway. There was only one thin blanket on his bed and the intruder in his bed had stolen in it in an attempt to get him out of bed.

A dark head of hair was thrown back in laughter, it sounded more barking than a normal laugh would. “Come on, Barton, ‘m you’re friend, knew those boys would beat the shit outta ya if they grabbed you,” The other man reached out and forced the pillow from Clint’s grip, making him lie on his back so he could investigate his face. “Shit, they got you good.” Clint nodded and didn’t move as his friend went to grab the basic medical supplied that Clint kept hidden in his bathroom.

“How the fuck did’ya know that asshole spotted me, Bucky?” Clint sat up as Bucky cleaned some of the cuts on his face with an easy smile. Clint had been sent on that job by a new big shot in town, should have known better than to take it when Rogers turned him down and Natasha wouldn’t even take a meeting with him. Barnes here wasn’t going to take a job that his best friends turned down because they didn’t trust the guy, nobody sent that memo to Clint.

It was supposed to be an easy in and out gig, the kind he’d done a thousand times over. “Cause Stark saw you limping your way home on his way to his daddy’s building.” Bucky handed him the last of the aspirin in his bottle and gave not a moments warning before popping his shoulder back into place, Clint couldn’t hold back his scream. His neighbors were used to it. The man who hired him just wanted a punk kid to go into a jewelry store and steal some diamond ring, easy, but no one told Clint that the owner of the jewelry store was Norman Osborn, the man owned half the fucking city.

Bucky moved from the bed and pulled two coffees from somewhere, Clint could only assume he was sent from heaven itself to cure his wounds, handing one to the blond man he stood on the floor and gazed out the only window in the room. “Steve told me to come check on you, probably woulda found my way here anyway,” Clint smiled his thanks and took a large drink from the hot coffee, sigh happily as it scalded his tongue. If Tony had seen him that guaranteed that everyone knew what had happened to him, and if Steve sent Bucky to check on him there’s no way he was going to be able to hide and lick his wound in private.

“Yeah, well, I coulda taken him if I’d tried.” He attempted to bring the typically cocky tone back into his voice but that man’s words were still stuck in his mind. How could that fucking thug know anything about him? He didn’t know what went on in Clint’s head, what danger flowed in his veins. Outrunning his blood was the only thing that drove him. Bucky snorted and walked back towards the bed.

“Get your ass up, we gotta go meet the others. They wanna get a good look at the mighty Clint Barton, circus boy extraordinaire, all bruised and weak,” he said with a laugh and helped Clint to his feet.

“How mad is Tasha?” He asked with a questioningly look in his eyes and a wince ready to make its way across his features. The sound of the dark haired man’s laughter caused him to run a hand through his hair still caked in dried blood. “Fuck.” Bucky shrugged apologetically and clapped him lightly on the uninjured shoulder, pushing him towards the door out of his home, the closest thing he’d ever had anyway.

The door to Steve’s apartment was never unlocked because everyone just came and went as they pleased, and now was no exception. The one room apartment, the same as Clint’s but far cleaner and with a couch or two, was loud and full of life. Steve was standing by the couch and laughing with Sam while Tony was rummaging in his fridge. Tony was wealthier than any of them could ever dream of being but he spent all of his time in the sketchy part of the city with them, he’d always offer money or the help of his father’s connections but none of them ever accept it, none of them remembered how he got down here but it felt like he’d been with them forever.

Sam let out a whistle at the sight of Clint’s face and laughed at him. “Shit, kid, nice look.” He stood from the couch and walked to him quickly, putting his hands on his shoulders and getting a close look at all the cuts and bruises.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Wilson. You wanna see the best one?” Clint smirked and pulled up one side of his dirty shirt, showing the massive and multicolored bruise that covered most of his ribs on that side. Sam ran his fingers lightly across the bruise and Bucky laughed when Clint flinched away from his touch, the skin still sensitive from his beating. Sam smiled and gave his face another once over, they might fuck around but they were all friends and wanted to make sure the others were okay. Bucky clapped Sam’s back and they walked over to where Tony was fiddling with the old tv set and eating Steve’s food.

Leaving Clint alone to bear the weight of Steve’s blue eyes. “You’re an idiot, Clint,” he said with a warm smile and a rolling of his eyes. Steve was the unofficial leader of whatever the fuck this was, they all looked up to him and he made sure they were as safe as possible, which was often a thankless task considering how they made their money. “What made you think taking that job was a good call? The rest of us turned it down for a reason.” Clint shrugged and sat down on the couch, trying, and failing, and to hide his wince and avoiding Steve’s eyes as he did so.

“It was good money and seemed easy enough. The guy that hired me seemed a bit…off, but so does most everyone down here.” He knew that he should have turned down the gig the second the man hadn’t been willing to tell him who he was stealing from, that was a kid’s mistake, but he’d gotten cocky, like he usually did. Steve nodded and sat next to him.

“Just try not to get yourself killed, Bucky and Natasha will be on my ass if you do. Speaking of, Tasha should be here somewhere…” As if summed by those words the red haired woman appeared from the restroom and immediately moved towards Clint, Steve shot him a smile before standing and going to watch Tony try to fix his tv for the fiftieth time.

Bucky looked up for a moment and Clint could hear his laugh from across the room. _Traitor._ He thought before looking up at Natasha and trying to give her a charming smile. “Hey, gorgeous, so, uh, look.” 

 She let a small smile form on her face before she cut him off with a quick kiss, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty and that I don’t want to hit a man that can hardly walk,” There was a visible difference in the tenseness of Clint’s shoulders at the sound of her words. She sat against the arm of the couch and pulled him to her, letting him rest his head against the top of her breast and running a hand down his neck. “But if you take a job like that again I will kill you.” Her voice had a smile in it even as she pulled lightly on his hair, Clint could feel her laughter in her chest at the groaning noise he made.

There wasn’t a single part of him that doubted her; she was more dangerous than any of the idiot people that hired her for jobs new. They expected her to fail and that they would convince her she needed to pay of the balance of what they’d asked her to steal with her body, those plans never went as they hoped. Clint’s pretty sure he dozed off there because the next thing that happened was Bucky throwing himself over the back of the couch and landing on Clint’s legs without any warning. The noise that escaped his mouth could only be described as a yelp, something he would deny to his dying day. “You asshole!” Clint launched himself up, fighting through the pain to get one good punch in, after landing a solid jab to Bucky’s ribs he winced and went back to laying down.

Bucky pouted dramatically and kissed Natasha’s cheek before rearranging himself, putting Clint’s legs on his lap and beating out a soft rhythm with his fingers on his jeans.

He was allowed a few more moments of peace before the door burst open, allowing Wanda and Pietro to enter in a flourish. Maximoff’s were always a sucker for entrances. “Oh, Clint, you look awful.” Wanda sighed down at him and brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking at the large cut on the side of his face. She pulled her bag off her shoulder and grabbed the first aid kit that Steve handed to her.

They all tried to take care of each other but Wanda was the best at first aid so Clint reluctantly sat up and let her tends to his more obvious wounds. “Bucky cleaned me up some this mornin’ but you’re always better.” Bucky snorted but didn’t argue with Clint. His smile was flirty and he could feel rather than here Pietro roll his eyes at him. Wanda’s twin didn’t appreciate the flirtatious nature that surrounded everyone in the group, particularly when it was pointed towards his sister.

“Oh, hey, Natasha, I got a job tonight that I could use your help with.” Bucky reached across Clint to put his hand on her shoulder and get her attention.

“Who for?”

“For me, well, my dad.” Tony shot over from the other side of the room and took a seat on the floor by Natasha. His dad was crazy rich from being a snake in the grass and designing weapons for people, both legally and illegally, sometimes he hired his son’s friends to get news on his competitors. He was the best paying gig in town so they always took Howard Stark’s jobs.

Clint zoned out while they continued chatting about the job, eventually falling asleep again after Wanda finished with him. When he came to the apartment had cleared out some and the sky had darkened. “Tasha told me to tell you that they would be at your place after they finished.” Steve called from the small room that counted as a kitchen. Sam sat next to him and held out a few aspirin and a beer.

“Here you go, we went out and got some more since Bucky said you were out.” Clint thanked him and swallowed the pills. Stretching his limbs told him that his muscles were still sore and the bruising on his ribs didn’t seem to be fading anytime soon. Steve was in the kitchen talking in low voices with his girlfriend Sharon. Tony was passed out on the floor, curled around the tv he still hadn’t managed to fix.

He talked with Sam for a while before standing. “I’d better get back to my place before it gets to dark out, pretty sure Osborn still has the hots for my sweet ass.” His friend laughed and clapped him across the ass.

“Everyone wants a piece of you now, Barton. Wanda said she and Pietro overheard some of Osborn’s guys talking about how they were told to bring you to the big man himself if they spotted you. Keep your head low for a little while, yeah? For us?” Chewing on his lower lip Clint nodded and waved his goodbyes to his friends, though only Sam noticed.

It was the walk home that fucked him over.  

_“You can’t outrun your own blood, boy.”_  

It happened fast. One minute he was walking down the street, head low and a hoodie pulled over to hide his blood stained face, the next he was pulled into an alley. Again. This time the man didn’t show his face, didn’t even hit Clint, just shoved him into a door that led to a jewelry store. Another store owned by Norman Osborn, the man that wanted Clint dead.

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

“Fuck off, jackass, let me go. I’ll fucking kill you if you touch me again!” Clint screamed and kicked but it did nothing, the man holding him was solid as a rock as he carried Clint into a back room. After the door closed behind him he was dropped on his ass in front of a man just slightly taller than him. Without bothering to look up at him Clint stood up quickly, quickly enough to make his head rush and took a step towards the man. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man’s face was hidden by a hood but when he smiled Clint’s eyes grew wide and he stumbled backwards. “That’s not a good greeting. Didn’t your daddy teach you better, oh wait, no, he couldn’t, could he?” The man that carried Clint in here was still behind him, making sure he couldn’t walk backwards anymore, couldn’t get away from him.

“You’re supposed to be dead, you left and then you died. That’s what they told me.” Clint’s breathing was heavy and his voice was high, higher than it had been in years. The man, more like a wall, behind him laughed and moved away from him, allowing Clint to fall back on his ass and stare up at his older brother in shock.

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

Barney Barton laughed and pushed the hood off his face. He looked so much like his younger brother, the same anger burned in his eyes but he didn’t hide it, didn’t try and get past it, instead he made that anger his defining feature. His hair was a light brown, the same shade as their long dead father. ”Come on, baby brother, you shoulda learned better than to trust those deadbeats at Carson’s.” Barney leaned down, balancing on his toes and staring straight into Clint’s wide eyes. 

When Clint was sixteen his brother left him cold and bleeding on the ground outside the circus camp, and he hadn’t seen him again. He’d never wanted to see him again. After a few years there was a newspaper article about a fire that had killed a bunch of criminals in New York City, Barney’s name had been in the clipping. He’d hitched a ride to the city the next day, ran into Steve on the subway just a few weeks after arriving.

This new family was better than the other one he had in every way.

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

He pushed his body back even further until he hit the metal door that he’d come in through. There were hot tears threatening to spill from his blue eyes, too afraid to even begin to fight back. Last time he’d seen his brother he’d been left nearly dead on the ground and so broken he didn’t speak for over a week. “Ju-just, stay away. Why are you here?” His voice was shaking and he clutched his legs to his chest, trying to melt into the door as Barney walked closer to him kneeling down again when he was just a few inches from him.

The smirk on his face made Clint flinch, scrambling for something to hold onto and wishing that any of his friends were here to protect him. He couldn’t stand, couldn’t fight, couldn’t yell. All he could manage was cowering like the child he thought he left behind years ago. “Ah, come on, Clint. I just want to pick up where we left off.”

His fingers balled into fists until his fingernails broke his skin. “I-I didn’t do any-anything. Please.” He was shaking and flinched when his brother grabbed his chin and forced him to look directly into his eyes. There was a only a brief moment of their eyes connecting before Barney slammed his other fist into Clint’s jaw and laughed before moving away from him.

“You know, I just don’t give a shit.” Barney stood before him and the moment Clint moved a knee went directly into the side of his rubs that was bruised.

Clint spit blood onto the floor in front of him, the anger in his blood coming to the surface so suddenly he shot to his feet and managed to land one punch to Barney before he was pushed back to the ground. “You’re just like him. Just like dad.” His voice was trembling and Barney’s smirk fell for a brief second before making itself even crueler.

Clint had spent his entire life fighting to not become his father, making sure he would never do the things he did but he’d still turned into a thief. He was still a criminal but his brother was a monster. “Oh, you have no idea, baby brother. Let’em go.” Barney turned around and left the room as the other man opened the door he had dragged Clint through.

“What?” Clint asked his voice high and shocked. His brother’s thug glared and pointed towards the door, pushing him out and slamming the door behind him. _What the fuck was that?_

The walk back to his apartment was short, just a few blocks down from where his brother had been but Clint spent the entire time in his own head. If Barney was back than he had to leave, no matter what he did Barney would keep coming after him until he was dead or close enough that he lost interest in torturing him.

He had forgotten that Bucky and Natasha were coming to his apartment after their job until he walked in and saw them sprawled across his bed, lazily kissing. When he shut the door Natasha looked up, her face went from a bright smile to concerned frown when she saw the new bruise on his face and the look in his eyes. “What happened to you? Was it Osborn’s guys?” They both stood up and walked towards him, careful fingers touching his skin and worried looks.

He shook his head wildly, too afraid to speak and collapsed into Bucky’s arms. They both knew about his brother, knew the things he did to Clint so when he managed to squeak out his name they met each other’s eyes and pulled him down to the floor, keeping their arms tight around him. Neither of them spoke as the last of Clint’s barriers broke and he couldn’t fight the tears anymore, letting them spill out and soak Bucky’s shirt.  

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

Clint woke up in a cold sweat and a shadow moving in his mind, something dark and tall creeping its way into his eyes. Natasha’s arms tightened around him when he moved. She kissed his shoulder softly, trying not to wake Bucky who was on the other side of Clint. “You’re okay, you’re safe. We’re here.” He curled his aching body around her and let her run her hand down his back to try and calm his shaking body.

“I’m not, I never will be,” His shaking must have woken Bucky because he felt his strong arm wrap around his waist and he settled against his back, making him firmly sandwiched between the two people in his bed. “I have to go, get out of here. If I’m gone he’ll…I dunno but he won’t try anything.” His voice was unsure and he tried to get out of his bed but was dragged back down by four hands.

“No, you can’t just leave. We can protect you,” Bucky’s hand on his hip was firm but comforting, like he was afraid to touch him to hard. He wanted to believe them, that they could keep him safe from the animal that his brother had become, but he didn’t and staying here just put them in more danger than he could accept. The only thing he’d ever been good at was here, being a low grade criminal with a better family than any of the rich jerks he stole from. “Just go to Steve’s for the day. There will always be someone there. We’ll come by and get you after Natasha gets off work.”

Natasha, Steve, and Sam all had legal jobs that they worked during the day to make ends meet. Clint wanted to shake his head and pack what little he had, jump on a bus and leave but Natasha kissed him and he knew he would do whatever they asked him to do. Nodding he wrapped one hand around Bucky’s hand on his waist and the other around Natasha’s arm, pulling them as close as possible. None of them fell back asleep but they stayed wrapped around each other until Clint stopped shaking.

They walked him to Steve’s apartment and explained everything that happened while Clint showered in Steve’s, much cleaner, bathroom. Sam was asleep on the couch; Tony and his girlfriend Pepper were sitting on the fire escape talking quietly. When Clint walked out, wearing a pair of Sam’s jeans and one of Steve’s shirts he walked to sit on the floor by the couch without a word, feeling his friend’s eyes on him with every step that he took.  

The day past in a blur, people came and went but he was never alone. Even Pietro stayed with him for a while. Everyone tried to talk but after a while they all gave up, he could barely keep breathing let alone talk. He ate when food was put in front of him and went to the bathroom when he needed to but other than he sat still, curled in on his own body and flinching at any sudden noise. At one point Tony walked past him and reached to ruffle his hair but Clint moved away from him so quickly he ran into Pepper and nearly knocked her over. The apology he managed to mumble was the only thing he said all day.

It was only when Sam came back that he noticed how late it was, and that Natasha and Bucky were supposed to be back by now. As if timed by his thoughts Tony’s phone rang with a text from Natasha. Only a few of them could afford cellphones so they all used each other’s when needed. Clint wasn’t looking at him but he heard the phone fall to the ground and Tony’s loud shout. Sam walked out of the kitchen and looked at Tony carefully, moving to pick up the phone slowly. “Oh no. No. No.” His words were soft but Clint caught them and turned towards his friend.

There was a moment when Sam turned towards Clint, where his eyes flashed and it looked like he wouldn’t show him the phone but in the end he handed it to him. The text was from Natasha’s phone and it was a picture. A picture of Bucky and Natasha tied to chairs with gags in their mouths. Bucky looked like he would have a black eye in the morning. There was a message with it that read “Come on, baby brother.” Clint dropped the phone and screamed until he couldn’t hear anything.

Sam and Tony fell beside him and tried to stop him from running through the door but they only succeeded in making Clint elbow Tony in the nose. “You have to let me go! He’ll kill them! Please, just let me go.” He begged and pleaded while Tony bleed on his shirt and Sam kept a grip on his shoulder.  

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

Clint met Sam’s eyes, tears threatening to overflow and continued begging until he relented and released the grip he had on him. The moment he was let go Clint ran into Steve’s room and grabbed something he knew was hidden under the bed. The last thing he saw before leaving was Tony bleeding on the floor and Sam trying to call Steve. “I’m sorry that I brought him here,” he said, voice low and sad before closing the door and running as fast as he could.

He ended up at the store from the night before, hoping that Barney hadn’t found another place to hide. “Let me in! I know you’re looking for me.” The door opened before him and he rushed in, not bothering with the man that was guarding it. Barney stood in the corner of the room, that same smirk on his face. Clint saw a flash of his father for a moment, wearing the same smirk as his fist landed in Clint’s stomach. The chairs that held Tasha and Bucky were in front of Barney and Clint ran to their side, hands running over them and trying to apologize. His words were babbling and neither of them could respond but knowing they were alive gave Clint more courage than he felt since he’d been thrown in with his brother.

“I’m glad you came so fast, these two were getting awfully boring.” Barney’s knife cut a thin line across Natasha’s cheek before he stepped out from behind them, putting his body between Clint and his friends. The younger man flinched slightly and stepped back but at the sound of his brother’s dark laughter he met his eyes and stared at him straight on.

“Let go of my friends. Right now.”

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

The knife in Barney’s hand twisted around his fingers as he flipped it aimlessly, drawing Clint’s eyes to it. “You know what? I really don’t think I will,” He took another step forward and flipped the knife in the same second that his fist flew and connected squarely with Clint’s cheek, causing two of his cuts to open up and he could taste blood in his mouth. It tasted angry. Barney caught his knife in his other hand and took another step towards him. This time, Clint stood still, even as blood dripped down his cheek. “I would give you some long monologue so you can try and work out how to save them but I’d rather just kill you, and we both know you aren’t smart enough to get out of this one. Those pretty blue eyes don’t work anymore.”

Clint remembered the first day after they’d run off to join the circus, they’d gotten lost in the woods and Barney held his hand tight to make sure they didn’t get separated. They’d been inseparable until the day that Barney became his father’s son. When Barney pushed him to the ground Clint lashed out, sweeping his feet until his brother came crashing down with him. The knife in his hand landed just inches from Clint’s leg, Barney snatched it before Clint could even try. Something cold and metal touched the back of his head, the man guarding the door had pulled a gun the moment Barney went down. “No, leave now,” Barney’s voice was practically a growl as he ordered the man out of the room. “Only I’m allowed to kill you.” When the door was closed Clint reached behind him and pulled the gun he’d stolen from Steve’s room on his brother.

The gun was shaking and Clint could feel his confidence and anger wavering. “Please, just let us go.” He was begging again, begging like the teenager that just wanted his brother to be his best friend again even as he beat him half to death. Barney laughed, standing up and looming over his brother.

“Pull the trigger, I dare you,” His breath was heavy and he could feel tears coming back, he didn’t want kill his brother. He just wanted to leave with Bucky and Natasha. “It’s in our blood, right? Hurting people, that’s what everyone always said.”

_Your blood will always catch up with you._

When Clint didn’t, couldn’t, pull the trigger Barney pat his cheek before wandering back over to Natasha and Bucky. Running a hand roughly through Bucky’s hair and pulling it up. Natasha tried to rip her hands free as Bucky squirmed but they were tied to tightly. “Sorry that my brother isn’t strong enough to save you. Collateral damage, you understand.” Barney smirked and pulled the knife out, holding it to Bucky’s throat. Clint screamed.

It was only after Barney’s body hit the floor, blood coming from his mouth and the bullet wound, that Clint managed to stop screaming. He stepped in his brother’s blood to until Natasha and Bucky. He made a mental note to throw those shoes away as soon as he could. Neither of them looked at him as he untied them, just looked anywhere but at the dead man or his killer. No one spoke until they got out of the room, the guard having fled after the gunshot. Clint broke in the alley.

Fell to his knees gasping and sobbing, pleading with a god he didn’t believe in to take it back. He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore. To take back his brother’s death? His parent’s? or his own life? Any and all, he screamed and rocked against his friend’s bodies. All of them were covered in blood from the gunshot. That blood he’d spent so long having nightmares about was coating his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

_So you make sure it can’t run anymore._


End file.
